That Good Ol' Fashioned Tune
by brilliantmemories
Summary: It's Christmas time and the war is over, everyone has gone their separate ways to live their lives. Shaun finds himself some unexpected company in his lovely little home, people he hasn't seen in years. *Shaun/Desmond, dwindling on Shaun's past life.


**A/N:** Hello! I am not dead! Okay, now that you all know I'm alive, I just wanted to say a few things. Happy New Year! It's a bit late... but still better than never, right? And Happy Christmas! That's late too... I've in inactive just because of my lack of attention to my writing and laptop. I've been on a block for the longest time and even this was finished around Christmas time. I just... was too lazy to upload it. Plus, no worries, No One Knows isn't dead it's just... taking some time to pick it up again. So I apologize for my lack of being here, though I intend to write strongly (and hopefully get better) throughout 2011!

So, hope you enjoy this little oneshot! :) and you can figure the end out for yourself. *grin*

* * *

Shaun looked up at the glittering dark sky before he glanced at his watch, counting the seconds down.

Soon it was midnight and that meant it was the 25th of December, 2012. They have lived through it, taken the Templars down only days prior to the launch date. It was over now, at least, for the time being. They were allowed to return back to their lives, roam freely without the fear of being hunted down. Abstergo was bankrupt and all the higher ups had magically disappeared from society, only to appear on the news nowadays. Fear was abolished and now that the Assassins were free to do what their hearts desired for the time being, they took advantage of that.

Only days earlier Shaun had gotten a call from Rebecca, hearing that she had decided to join a senior women's rugby team and was officially the best player out of the butch, burly teammates. She was doing well, already fitting in with society in the middle of Norway where she apparently had met some incredibly sweet girls and was bunking with them until another catastrophic event came up. Shaun had heard that Lucy was settled somewhere in Germany. She had family there that she had been dying to see. It had brought a smile to Shaun's face; he had always figured Lucy was a family orientated kind of girl.

Desmond had yet to receive a single call from any of them. Even though Shaun had sent plenty of texts, emails and voicemails, nothing seemed to get through to him.

He knew the stubborn bloke lived in Italy, his cell phone's area code proved so. Unfortunately, he didn't know where, so Shaun couldn't fly out to see him. Sometimes, he wondered if Desmond was still alive. He thought about the Bleeding Effect and how much it had affected Desmond's mind and body. He knew Desmond had been close to breaking but since he had been away from the bloody contraption… did that help him the slightest bit?

Shaun sat on the edge of a low stone wall, playing with the iPhone in his hands. Glancing behind him, he looked at the small cottage, smiling as warmhearted memories returned to him. He had gone to this sanctuary when he was little for a month in the summer, during his family's vacation. It was chilly out, a rare snow surrounding Shaun and leaving him in complete countryside bliss. Most days, Shaun preferred the city with its hustle and bustle, the unlimited voices, car engines and the sweet and lovely cafes that littered London. Thinking about the city made Shaun miss it, but he was better out here, far from London and all its dangers. Looking around, the only light he could see was his own home's and for once, he was at complete ease.

He was alone with a road that stretched far off into the distance. Completely and utterly alone.

Shaun looked at the small, frozen-over pond off to his right and fond memories returned of him and his family. They quickly evaporated when the thought of their death sliced right through the jolly memory, eliminating any warm feelings one might get from thinking of said nostalgic things. This cottage had been left to Shaun in their will, only to be claimed today. Already, he familiarized himself with the layout and every little trinket that reminded him of the distant, yet fond days. Most of it had been left where his family had put the things down, like the dusty record player sitting in the living room, surrounded by well kempt vinyls and older novels with cracked spines. Or even the huge old TV that still had antennas, something Shaun hadn't seen in years that he remembered his dad won in a football gamble. Even the old flower patterned couch still felt the same as it did when he was eight or fifteen. It must have been years ago that they used it but had never thought to sell it. Shaun had been the youngest in the family – after he left, they must have stopped. That was about seven or eight long, miserable years ago.

With a sigh, Shaun slid off the stone wall, hearing his feet crunch against the freshly fallen snow. Walking inside, Shaun flipped on the light switch before he locked the door, ready to settle in for the night. The cottage was slightly cold, usually only being used for the summer. This is exactly where Shaun wanted to be. He hated the heat, always having a thing for the cold. Slowly he walked into the kitchen, feeling an instant chill wrap around his body and seep into his bones. Knowing that he was alone in this place without anyone to bug him was comforting in the oddest way.

Suddenly a thick darkness drifted over him, a frightening presence very apparent in his surroundings.

Quickening his pace, Shaun hurried to the kitchen and opened up the drawer with a surprising amount of urgency. He rummaged through before he found his largest chef knife, cursing himself for leaving all his assassin gear upstairs in his bedroom. To Shaun, the cold no longer felt welcoming or pleasant. It almost felt like death to him, reminding him painfully of the way his family members had died. Struck down by Templars without mercy, the Hastings' manor's floors and walls had been bloodied with the massacre that never ceased to leave Shaun's thoughts. The killings were the only thing that lingered in his head.

_It's your fault they died,_ a voice in his head whispered, causing him to grip the knife tighter. _If you had never left, they might still be alive. If you had kept your mouth shut about Abstergo…_

Shaun could have been gone with them, but Rebecca had saved his sniveling, sobbing ass. He remembered walking into the room, seeing the bodies sprawled out in positions that a human being should never be in. How terrible that family Christmas had been. His mind almost rejected the thoughts, the images and the voices. He could remember the remaining Templars in his now long, gone home. She had taken the two down without hesitance and ran him out.

"Shaun?" A familiar voice reached his ears, causing his head to spin momentarily before he caught his balance against the counter. No. His sister was _dead_. Long gone. "Shaun, please… Mum and dad…" The emotion in her voice almost drained Shaun of all the blood in his trembling body. Her voice so was crystal clear, as if she was actually standing right beside him. "I'm right here, Shaun…" Her whispers of reassurance in a terrorized tone yanked at Shaun's heart strings and he couldn't find his voice in the icy breaths that he was drawing at a sluggish pace. "I love you…"

Suddenly, it was too much. Shaun felt something inside him crack as he heard his sister's last words before her death, the memory almost ripping him in half.

"Oh come on, man up," another echoing voice was carried throughout the room and Shaun's head snapped up, his ears listening intently. What a lovely Christmas, he thought to himself as he watched a white shadow enter the room from around the corner. Shaun felt his jaw hit the floor as he stared into the vague eyes of his older brother, a man he hadn't seen since he had been fourteen. It was too much like a dream to be real, to see him standing in front of him in a wispy pair of translucent slacks and button up shirt. They had all reluctantly dressed nice for that final Christmas dinner and now, it seemed all too terrifying for Shaun to process through his head. Shaun had only been under the Animus once and he instantly knew this wasn't a projection of the Bleeding Effect. These were just too cruel to be real for him.

"We're dead and we have been for almost five years. I expect you to be over us, no big deal." Shaun hated how nonchalant his brother had been about every, bloody, thing. He hated how he was staring at his dead siblings, their hearts still unlike Shaun's, where the beating was almost amplified in his situation. He almost felt ashamed of his blood flowing through his body, his heart pounding loudly in his chest – it was something that had been taken away from the two standing in front of him. "I swear to God, Shaun, if you cry…"

A small, strangled sob escaped from his lips as he tried to form a coherent reply.

"Oh, Shaun…" His sister whispered and her feet ghosted across the floor, which should have been creaking under her weight, except that even that part of her was nonexistent. She no longer had a mass to this world. Didn't take up a single inch of space.

He felt her try to hug him but she merely dissolved through him, instantly turning into a white powdery smoke. Shaun shivered violently before he opened his eyes again and looked down the hallway, to suddenly see two more figures having joined his brother. His breath hitched as he realized whose familiar, long gone faces he was looking at. Even still, not a single word would leave his lungs and make their way to them. He wanted to talk. Even if it was just a dream. Tell them everything that had happened, that it was all over now. That he had revenged them, torn apart those bloody Templars for them but it still never felt right in the end. After he had taken down those four men, Shaun swore he would never kill unless it meant life or death. Even sometimes after the first year, Shaun considered death to be something that he longed for. To join his family, leave all the complications behind and just be at ease.

Then he realized how stupid that sounded and kicked himself back into gear.

"Shaun, baby… It's me, your mum…" Her voice sounded so sad, so miserable that it almost tore Shaun's heart right out of his chest. "Oh love, how have you been doing…? Have you been eating properly?" Shaun looked at her with heartbreaking eyes, his emotions running wild as he took hesitant steps forward. Shaun Hastings in that exact, precise moment, wanted nothing more than a hug from his mother. And of course, he wouldn't be able to get what he wanted. She was dead. Just a translucent image in front of him. He felt his shoulders shaking violently as he tried to calm himself down, whispering and muttering over and over again that this was a dream, nothing more. A dream that he would wake up from on Christmas morning and laugh off because it's just so ridiculous, almost like the cheesy mystery novels his dear mother liked to read. It seemed to ironic now for this to be real.

"Mum… dad…" Shaun's voice shook as he slowly stumbled across the room, trying to get closer to them. He needed to be reminded of their faces, the way their eyes twinkled when they were having a good day, the way his mum's eyebrow would raise when she found things getting awkward.

"Mind playing us a tune, honey? I wouldn't mind hearing some Billie Holiday…" His mum's smile was sad and it didn't help as Shaun tried to stay upright, telling himself that he could do the simple task. With a deep intake of breath, he made his way to the record player to find that the vinyl was already lying in front of it. His parents' favourite too, he recalled with a heavy heart as he gently picked it up and pulled the record out of its sleeve. Slowly, he placed it down and picked up the arm, carefully setting it down at the end of the record. A static whispered from the stereos and Shaun slowly turned up the volume, hearing a bunch of piano keys before Billie Holiday's voice filled the room.

"Oh dear, I missed hearing that lovely voice of hers. Doesn't it just tug at your heart strings, dear?" His mother looked at his father, who had his eyes closed and if Shaun looked closely, he could see he was bobbing his head. As the vinyl spun around, Shaun tore his eyes away from it and looked at his family, who were now standing huddled together. Looking at them, Shaun felt any sort of positivity in him smash into a million pieces. For a moment, all Shaun wanted to do in his whole life was hug his mum, get a hair ruffle from his father, a punch from his brother and a bear hug from his sister. He loved them so much it hurt.

But then they suddenly vanished, just leaving dust to flitter down to the ground silently. But the quick moment was short lived as the door bell rang through his house once, twice then rapidly, it was like a barrage of noises through Shaun's ears, shattering his conscience. He didn't want to answer it. He wanted to stand right in his spot and listen to this record over and over again, trying to hang onto this dream as long as he could. Once he woke up, he would lose the thought of it, it wouldn't be his dream any longer because it would cease to exist. But that God damn doorbell was irritating and wasn't going to give up.

"Give me one bloody second!" He shouted at the top of his lungs and stormed over to the door, swinging it open with a terrifyingly strong arm. "What do you-"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Shaun!" A man in a white hoodie stood in front of him, shaking violently with his arms huddled around himself. Shaun knew that annoying voice, he could recognize it anywhere. Probably even on the tube in London, and that was pretty bad, considering the voices there were almost overpowering. "Out in the middle of nowhere? Are you kidding me?" Desmond growled and shoved himself past a shocked Shaun, sweeping snow off his frigid body.

"What… You… What?" Shaun was having a hard time gathering his words. This was turning into one shitty nightmare.

"I was trying to get my shit back together, slowly withdraw from the Animus. I… I found a group of Assassins who helped me. Fuck, it's freezing in here! Don't you have a heart? Christ…" Shaun slowly closed his door and turned around to see Desmond walking through the living room with his shoes still on.

"Hey! Take those shoes off right now!" Shaun shouted and rushed over, grabbing Desmond's arm tightly.

"Woah! What's your problem? Are you drunk right now? I wouldn't mind joining you," Desmond rolled his eyes but suddenly, when their gazes locked, Shaun saw something change in the man's expression. "… Shaun? Shit… You haven't been crying, have you?"

Trying not to let his words sink in, Shaun shoved him back and wiped at his eyes, feeling too exhausted and beat down to begin explaining everything to this… this character in his dream. This wasn't actually Desmond, it couldn't be. He was too far away. Unreachable.

"Shit… I'm sorry. I guess timing is everything? Luce said you were here and feeling kind of lonely-"

"I am _not_ lonely!" Shaun snapped back, feeling his voice tremble. He knew his voice always trembled when he lied.

"You haven't been returning my texts," Desmond frowned and Shaun stared at him, trying to comprehend what he had just said.

"You… Sent texts?"

"Yeah, like…" Desmond counted on his fingers, tilted his head and looked at the ceiling. "Maybe about like, seven times. It got me worried after I finished my tiny sessions… It's amazing what five days can do. I mean… I still see the occasional thing but it's not as drastic as it used to be. But at least there isn't guards from the 15th century watching me eat my lunch, hey?" Desmond laughed and shut up when Shaun didn't join him. "So… who's this?" Desmond looked around to see where the noise was coming from. When his eyes laid on the record player, he began to step towards it.

"_Don't_ touch my record player," he meant to say it in a dead pan tone, but it came out as more of a snappy command.

"Jeez. Maybe I should have bought you some tampons for Christmas. What's wrong?" Desmond turned around to look at Shaun, who was pretending to look out the window at something interesting. "You're always looking to pick on me for something and yet you're silent as a rock-"

"That comparison made no sense."

"Shut up, yes it did," Desmond narrowed his eyes at him and walked up to the historian, who was busy in thought. "I brought a present for you, in all seriousness though."

"Oh? Did you now? You didn't have to. I got you nothing." Shaun looked around, trying to catch glances of the ghosts that had just been haunting him moments earlier.

"Close your eyes." Desmond grinned and with a frown, Shaun did so, feeling uneasy in the sudden darkness. The music that was playing in the back was eerily distracting and for a moment, Shaun felt lost – completely gone from the world he was in now. That none of this was real and that when he opened his eyes, he might wake to see the ceiling of his bedroom. Shaun heard the sound of tape being ripped and the sound of a box being opened and he knew that this was going to be a very… 'special' Christmas present. Something he would chuck into the rubbish bin the moment Desmond left.

Much to Shaun's surprise, he heard the record player suddenly come to a stop with the scratching sound of the needle being lifted off the vinyl. His eyes snapped open to see Desmond looking at him like a deer in headlights and instantly, Shaun felt something snap in him as he saw Desmond's hand on the player's arm.

"I told you not to-"

"Don't move!" Desmond shouted and rushed over, oblivious to the fact that he should have been running away from Shaun, not running to.

"Desmond, do you have any idea-"

"Your Christmas present," he grinned, stopping right in front of Shaun, seemingly too close for a yelling match. "Is above you."

"What the bloody hell are you talking-" Slowly, Shaun's words came to a halt as his voice ceased to work. As he looked up, he caught eye of something peculiar that hadn't been there before. It was mistletoe, the dreaded white plant that Shaun had tried to avoid his whole, sexless (and kissless) life. "My Christmas present…?" His voice was a barely audible whisper as he glanced down at Desmond, noticing for once that they were almost the same height. That Shaun was just a tiny bit taller than the foolish man in front of him.

Desmond smiled, a blush flourishing on his cheeks as he stepped closer, their noses almost touching as he invaded Shaun's personal bubble. "Yeah. Now… Kiss me under the mistletoe."

Shaun stared at him with a shocked expression for a moment as he watched the younger man close his eyes and lean in. He immediately felt his stomach flip when their lips gingerly touched. Still not having made a move, Shaun felt his whole body tense up as Desmond slowly began to slide his arm around the historian's neck, pulling himself closer. Shaun felt his whole chest flare up momentarily before his heart twist and a suddenly yearning spilled out from him. Without controlling himself, his hands reached up and cupped Desmond's face, pulling him deeper into the desperate kiss. Shivers ran up his spine and spread through his body as he heard Desmond's voice moan ever so quietly into his mouth as he parted their lips, unsure of what he was actually doing. Shaun had never properly kissed anyone before, he was merely just improvising from what felt natural.

When they broke apart, Shaun realized that he had closed his eyes and slowly began to open them, staring into the smiling eyes of Desmond Miles.

"Why did you…?" Shaun looked at him, still puzzled about the fact his hands remained on Desmond's cheeks, brushing his thumbs absentmindedly over the corners of his lips.

"Because I missed your arrogant comments, you asshole." Desmond laughed quietly before leaning in and giving Shaun another quick kiss.

"You must be absolutely mental than." Shaun whispered, unable to pry their eyes apart. Unsure of what to do next, Shaun let Desmond reach up and take his glasses off with his freehand, placing them in the taller man's trouser pocket.

"Nah, not anymore," Desmond grinned back at him. "Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, Happy Christmas," Shaun smirked before he walked over and put the music back on, sighing in contentment as he turned around and smiled at his lovely Christmas present, whether it was a dream or not.


End file.
